Harry Potter and the Well of Desire
by DirigiblePlum
Summary: With the Death Eater trials well underway, it seems Harry can finally live a normal life. However, a spate of grisly murders endangers both Harry and his closest friends. Can he solve the mystery of the Well of Desire before his new life falls apart? R
1. Chapter One: In Which All is Well

Chapter One: In Which All is Well

A gentle breeze rippled the brown grass of the meadow, barely affecting the oppressive August heat. The sun beat down from its position high in the midday sky, scorching garden plants and people alike. A tinny radio was blaring out from under the shade of a large oak. "And now before we go over to Glenda Chittock on The Witching Hour, here's the weather report with me, Florence Knightly. The sun is still set to shine; the same as it's been doing since last of the dementors were driven out of Britain…"

The boy lying in the gloom under the tree's thick canopy stirred. His dark hair was tousled from sleep, and his round glasses sat askew on his pinched face. He looked like any other teenager, except a thin lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. But despite appearances, this was no ordinary boy. Harry Potter was a wizard, and currently the most famous wizard in the world. He had not once, but twice survived the Killing Curse, and brought about the downfall of the world's most feared Dark Wizard.

But now, the great Harry Potter, the chosen one, was snoring in the middle of a field, an undignified string of drool dribbling down his chin. The redheaded girl leaning against the trunk of the tree looked up from her book and laughed, lazily poking him with a foot. "Harry, wake up!"

He woke with a start, sitting up and wiping his chin. He blinked groggily. "How long have we been out here?"

Ginny checked her watch. "Oh, about three hours." Harry shuffled back to where she was sitting against the tree and closed his eyes. He put a hand to his forehead, tracing the scar with a long finger. He had been dreaming about it hurting again, worrying as he had been every day that his ordeal was not over, that Voldemort would find another way to return.

"It's over," he told himself fiercely. "He's never coming back."

Ginny looked up from her book again. "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing…"

"Are you sure? You sound worried…" She looked up at him, her big brown eyes full of concern.

"I'm fine!" He got up, stretching his limbs that were aching from his awkward position on the floor. "Shouldn't we be getting back?"

"Probably." Ginny had closed her eyes and curled up in the place Harry had just vacated.

"Come on, Gin. Your mum would kill me if I left you out here by yourself."

"Fine," she muttered. She got to her feet slowly, yawning as she did so. She slipped her hand into Harry's and smiled up at him. "Let's go."

Harry led the way to the path back to the Burrow, trying to ignore his heart thudding painfully in his chest from Ginny's touch. He smiled contentedly, feeling the sunlight heat his body, and absentmindedly ran a finger along his scar again. It hadn't pained him for nearly three months. All was well.


	2. Chapter Two: In the Burrow

Chapter Two: In the Burrow

As Harry opened the gate and stepped onto the path leading up to the crooked house Ron was leaning against the door frame, tapping his wand against his arm with a frown on his face. "Where have you two been?"

Ginny scowled at him. "Mum and Dad don't have a problem with me spending time with my boyfriend. You're just jealous because Hermione is too busy tracking down her parents to spend time with you."

Ron's ears turned red, and he opened his mouth to start arguing, but Harry got there first. "Please, just drop it. It's not worth it, is it?" Ron muttered something to his feet, and Ginny looked sheepish. Harry ran a hand through his hair. "That's probably an owl from Hermione now," he said, nodding at the large grey bird soaring towards the kitchen window. He pushed past Ron, stepping into the cool gloom of the hallway. Ginny muttered an apology to the still irate Ron, and slipped into the living room to continue her book.

He strolled into the kitchen, nodded a greeting at Mrs. Weasley, and grabbed the overexcited owl by a foot, stopping it from fluttering around the light fittings. He glanced at the two letters it carried and tossed one to Ron, who fumbled his catch and narrowly avoided dropping the envelope in the dish of water Mrs. Weasley had put out for the exhausted owl. Harry snorted, and tore off the top of the envelope to read the note written in Hermione's elegant script.

_Dear Harry,_

_I know it's not been long since I last wrote, but __I've just managed to track down Mum and Dad, and when I lifted the memory charm I had to persuade them we were on holiday in Australia. I'm still here now, so I don't know how long this letter will take to reach you. _

_I hope everything is well at The Burrow. But of course it will be well! I still have to keep telling myself everything is back to normal. Have you heard anything about Hogwarts reopening? Will they let us retake our 7__th__ year? You will let me know the instant you hear anything, won't you? I would hate to think I was missing out on any time I could be preparing!_

_I'll probably be back next week, and I can come to the Burrow to see you __boys.__ Give my love to everyone!_

_Goodbye for now,_

_Hermione._

Harry looked up to see Ron about halfway through his much longer letter. His ears were slowly turning a vivid shade of red. He pulled out a chair and sprawled at the table, waiting for Ron to finish.

He wasn't waiting too long before Ron looked up and noticed him grinning at him. "Told you it was from Hermione," he said. Ron folded up his letter and put it reverently in his pocket. "What was yours about?"

"It's Hermione," Harry replied. "What do you expect? She asked how we were, and then started asking about school. What did yours say?"

Ron gazed at his feet, looking embarrassed. "Oh, pretty much the same…" Ron's discomfort was saved by a soft knock on the door. "Don't worry, mum, I'll get it," he yelled whilst retreating down the hallway, if only to escape Harry's knowing grin.

He returned a few moments later trailed by Mr. Weasley.

"Hello, dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly. Mr. Weasley responded with an exhausted peck on the cheek and a strained grin at the two boys at the kitchen table.

Ron grimaced at his father. "Still doing the Auror's paperwork for them?"

Mr. Weasley ran a hand over his growing bald patch. "I wish. They had three of us from the Misuse of Muggle artifacts out with five of them to apprehend a suspect."

Mrs. Weasley gasped. "What, a Death Eater? What happened?"

"We got him. Jugson. We're really starting to crack down on the ones who got away," he said, his face set in a determined frown. "And this means another trial for you, Harry."

Harry groaned inwardly, but nodded in a resigned manner. Who better to give evidence in the Death Eater trials than he who had been present for two of the few times Voldemort had assembled all of his Death Eaters?

Mr. Weasley must have noticed his wife's worried expression, as he quickly changed the subject. "Where's Ginny hiding?"

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. "She's certainly not helping her brothers with the de-gnoming, like I asked her to. Same goes for you, Ronald."

Harry stretched as he stood up. "Come on then, Ron; let's get it done while it's still light. I haven't seen Fred and George since lunch, so we should probably make sure they haven't blown anything up."

The five of them trouped back into the Burrow as the sun was setting, muddied and exhausted, but content. Too tired for words, they made their way up the winding path in the half-light, as a cool breeze weaved around the hill from the east. Harry paused at the back of the group, an uneasy feeling twisting in the pit of his stomach. The sun had set, and he shivered in the cool night air. The lonely oak in the field was fully in shadow, and without the summer sunlight it had taken on a sinister air. Was that a figure standing at the base of its trunk? His hand slowly slid to the wand in his pocket.

Suddenly a hand gripped him on the shoulder. He whirled around, wand raised, until a waft of flowery scent told him that it was Ginny.

She tucked a lock of hair behind an ear as she gazed at him, radiating concern. As she opened her mouth, Harry silenced her with a heavy sigh. "I'm fine. I'm allowed to be wary still, aren't I? This time three months ago I was fighting for my life. I was the most wanted man in Britain." Ginny wordlessly took his hand and led him back up the path to where her brothers were waiting.

"It's not as if I'm going mad," Harry muttered.


End file.
